Kilgharrah gifts
by albafulig
Summary: It's present day and Merlin is still patiently waiting for Arthur's supposed return. When he turns up rather unexpectedly one day, with no apparent memory of his former life, Merlin struggles to figure out why. A work in progress. :)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"I'm sorry; can you tell me how I get up to the castle?" Merlin swivelled around from the shelf he was stacking. A young family stood in front of him, the dad clutching a map, the mother with her hands on the shoulders of the boy and the girl in front of her.

Merlin smiled. "Yeah, if you go out and turn left, follow the path all the way up to the top. It gets a bit steep so be careful."

"Thank you very much!" The man beamed and the woman ushered the children out after him. They were typical of the type of people that visited the mount. They had matching waterproof jackets and backpacks and walking boots. Geography teacher parents subjecting their kids to walking around old buildings and castles at the weekend, when all they really wanted to do was watch telly and go in the park.

Sometimes Merlin would shut the shop early and follow the families and tourists up the path to the top of the mount. He would just stand there and look out at the sea and feel the magic pulsing through the stone. So many memories, so much power. Then he would look across and see people taking pictures mindlessly with oversized cameras without really taking in what they were looking at. They were only here because it was expected of them. Nowadays, if people were a bit smart or middle class it was just assumed that they should visit these places, the same places Merlin had once called home, and buy the guidebooks and take pictures of the statues and bits of pot. Then they would go home and tell their friends how nice it was, and more people would visit every summer, but they couldn't feel it like Merlin could. He knew it wasn't their fault. They were all so young, so naïve to what had once existed.

Merlin had taken advantage when the mount had first been taken over by the national trust. At first he despaired when the archaeologists moved in and started to turn the soil of the hill, taking what wasn't theirs. People started to build on the mount, cottages and shops. They turned the monastery into a museum, and then the people started to come.

He bought a shop, Kilgharrah gifts, for no reason other than to stay close to where Avalon once stood. He needed to keep an eye on what was going on, but these days, simply hanging around in the woods would not do. People asked far too many questions; people were all far too interested in the business of others. He saw a niche for selling tat that tourists lapped up. The tourists would always comment how beautiful and unusual the name was. He drew old maps of what Camelot used to look like and stained them in coffee and burnt the edges. He sold handmade quills and pots of ink and royal seal stamps and little jars of old medicine made from herbs. He used magic to carve little dragon candles that he would burn in the shop windows. The people that visited the mount often told him he had the best shop on the whole island, that everything he had seemed so real. Merlin would often just smile and say it was because he loved what he supposed was once a more simple way of living. He often had visitors that had been told by others that if they wanted to know anything about the mount and its history, they should visit him. History students writing their papers, writers working on their books, would all come in and ask him questions and marvel about how much he knew.

He enjoyed his life now, he supposed. It was far more comfortable than he had ever known. So much change over the past millennium, so much he had experienced and witnessed. But it was here, back near Arthur, where Merlin truly felt at peace. There was a dull ache that stayed with him constantly, a weight on his shoulders for all that he had seen and all that he had lost. The people over the past one thousand years that had come and gone, the places he had lived all affected him, but nothing more so than those he had left in Camelot, the one and only place had been able to call home. Here, on the mount, near where he had sent Arthurs soul to rest all those years ago, was the closest he was ever going to get to home again.

The rest of the day in the shop was slow. The season was coming to a close and the visitor numbers were starting to dwindle. Merlin was thinking about closing when he became aware of a person stood in the doorway.

"Excuse me, sorry to bother you, but I've been told you know quite a bit about the history of this place… I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions."

For a moment Merlin thought he was going to pass out. He was completely frozen, his eyes fixed on the man. He was wearing modern clothes, but there was no mistaking the soft blonde hair across his forehead, the piercing blue eyes, and the air of confidence. It was Arthur. He had returned.


	2. Chapter 2

And when I entered told me that himself  
And Merlin ever served about the King,  
Uther, before he died; and on the night  
When Uther in Tintagil past away  
Moaning and wailing for an heir, the two  
Left the still King, and passing forth to breathe,  
Then from the castle gateway by the chasm  
Descending through the dismal night-a night  
In which the bounds of heaven and earth were lost-  
Beheld, so high upon the dreary deeps  
It seemed in heaven, a ship, the shape thereof  
A dragon winged, and all from stem to stern  
Bright with a shining people on the decks,  
And gone as soon as seen. And then the two  
Dropt to the cove, and watched the great sea fall,  
Wave after wave, each mightier than the last,  
Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep  
And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged  
Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame:  
And down the wave and in the flame was borne  
A naked babe, and rode to Merlin's feet,  
Who stoopt and caught the babe, and cried, 'The King!  
Here is an heir for Uther!'

_From Alfred, Lord Tennysons "Idylls of the king – the coming of Arthur"_

* * *

Chapter 2

"I'm sorry, I must have the wrong place, I'll uhh…" Arthur turned to leave.

"No! Wait!" Merlin cried as he finally stood up. If this was the return he had been waiting so long for, he could not simply just let walk out. Arthur paused and turned around, obviously confused.

"This is the right place then?" He asked, taking a few steps further into the shop.

Merlin knew he had to persevere. Arthur had no memory of the past, of that he was certain. He had been waiting for this moment for over a thousand years and had imagined over a hundred different scenarios in his head, and had tried many spells and potions to see the future but the fact remained that he had no idea what Arthur coming back would be like.

"Yeah, err, I guess I do know a bit… what is it you want to know?" Merlin sat back down behind the counter. He felt his heart flutter slightly as a look of relief washed over Arthur's face. Merlin watched in awe as Arthur began to traverse the shop, taking the lids off the bottles and smelling the contents, studying the maps with interest. He hadn't changed a bit.

Eventually, Arthur stopped in front of the desk and pulled out a folder and a notebook from his bag.

"I wanted to know about the mount. What makes it so special." Arthur said as he flicked through the pages of his book.

"Special?" Merlin repeated. He flashed his eyes towards the direction of the door and coughed to mask the sound of the lock clicking. He couldn't risk just letting Arthur leave now he was back.

"It's pretty hard to explain, I guess I've always just felt fascinated by the history. I started doing some reading about it, and I just like I connected with it, I don't really know why. It sounds stupid, but I just felt drawn here."

"It doesn't sound stupid to me, in fact, I've come across this sort of thing before."

Arthur looked up "You have?"

Merlin nodded. "What… what did you say your name was?" he asked, trying to seem disinterested. It was difficult to suppress the elation he was currently experiencing. Arthur was back, here, in the same room looking just as he did all those years ago.

"Oh, yes… It's Arthur. Arthur Pendragon." He reached out his hand, which Merlin took gingerly. Instantly a flash of energy surged down his arm, causing Arthur to jump back in shock.

"What the hell was that?"

"Oh, sorry…" Merlin mumbled, "It's this jumper, and uhh, static and all that, I get it all the time, my fault, should have earthed myself before I…"

He looked up to see Arthur looking at him blankly. "Would you like a cup of tea?" He asked, gesturing towards the back of the shop "then you ask me what you like."

"Sure…" Arthur looked warily at his still outstretched hand, and then towards the door.

Merlin led him into the tiny kitchen behind the main shop. Unopened boxes of stock littered the surfaces and there were little pieces of chipped candle wax everywhere. Merlin could help but smile at Arthur's face as he walked in; a kind of disapproving grimace that Merlin was so used to it only felt like yesterday since a far more happier time, at home in Camelot. A wave of sadness washed over him suddenly and unexpectedly; Arthur was back, he was here, but it wasn't the same. Was this what he wanted? He had stayed faithful in believing that Arthur would one day return, but was this how Merlin had seen it? He had pictured it more to be two friends reunited at last, rather than two strangers.

"What was your name? You didn't say."

Merlin paused, caught off guard. "Well" he hesitated "The people around here call me Merlin." He said as he filled the kettle with water.

Arthur burst into laughter "What, like the Wizard?" He asked incredulously.

"I guess. I think it's a nickname they gave me here when I first bought my shop, y'know, because I'd been studying the history of this place for so long." Merlin replied, still turned away. He probably should have come up with something different, but his wits were failing him and he still hadn't gotten over the fact that Arthur was sat at his kitchen table, alive and well.

He set two mugs down on the table and sat down slowly. He could go back, he supposed, to being young again, but it didn't seem fitting seeing as he had been around for so long, and he had carved something of a life with what he looked like now. People knew him and trusted him, it was far easier to deal with the aching bones and arthritis than it was to live a life constantly moving from place to place. He had done enough of that for a lifetime.

"What is it that you do then, Arthur?"

"I'm thinking of going into politics, like my father."

"Oh, a leader?" Merlin said, smirking.

"Indeed" Arthur began to shuffle through his papers once more.

"You don't really look like a politician."

Arthur looked up, obviously amused by Merlin's tone.

"No? I guess not. I've just finished at the Olympics, actually. Trained for four years, got a gold. But it isn't a career, as such, more of a hobby. I want to do something worthwhile, I think."

"An Olympian? How fancy! In what sport, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Fencing." Arthur replied. Obviously, a swordsman, it had to be. This was obviously not what he had gone there to discuss, and Merlin knew his patience would be wearing thin. A thousand years into the future, he was exactly the same.

"How interesting. Right well, let us get on with it. What is it that you want to know?"

"I want to know how this place is linked to the stories I've read. There is something different about it, I don't know what, but I can hardly find anything that documents its history. It feels like I have a link to it but I can't trace any of my family history back to the area, so it can't be that. I've often dreamt of it in such vivid detail before I've ever visited. It's just so bizarre and I don't understand it, but I need to, because it's starting to drive me crazy. This past few months it gotten worse, every night, I dream the same thing over and over again, that I'm stood on the top of the mount in front of a grave and it's raining, but there are no graves here, I've checked and…"

Merlin held his hand up, making Arthur stop mid-sentence.

"You are mistaken. There is no gravestone, but someone is indeed buried here. I understand you feel drawn to this place. It has a certain power, a magic that I know all too well. You shouldn't feel foolish for coming to me, it was the right thing to do. I think for you to properly understand, we need to make our way further up the mount, to the top."

Arthur sat in silence for a moment, staring at Merlin. It was what he had been hoping for after all, to finally have someone be able to explain what these dreams meant, and why he felt so drawn to the mount.

"Ok" he managed to replied "Ok, let's go"

Merlin nodded and made his way out of the shop, beckoning Arthur to follow him. Together they walked up the steep cobble path towards the top of the mount in silence. Merlin couldn't help but notice the side glances of Arthur, who was obviously concerned about the idea of such an old man climbing at an alarming fast rate.

The silence gave Merlin time to think. He was elated that Arthur was back, right here next to him, happy in the knowledge that his patience had paid off, even in the dark times when he was so desperate to end it all. But there was something else; a feeling of uncertainty he knew so well. A thousand years was a long enough time for a person to finely tune their intuition, and something wasn't right. If Arthur had returned, then something was wrong. He remembered Kilgharrah's words like they were yesterday. Arthur would rise again when Albion needed him, and here he was. Something must be happening, England must be in some sort of danger. For now, Merlin pushed this to the back of his mind. They had only just be reunited, it was no time to start expressing his concerns that something terrible was probably going to happen.

They reached the top viewing platform just as it was going dark. To the west, the sun was falling lazily behind the horizon and the stars were coming out. It had always been Merlin's favourite time of day.

"It sure is beautiful here" Arthur remarked as he leaned over the wall to look down at the winding street below. "You said someone was buried here. Who were you talking about?"

"This place, this island, was once called a different name. It was known as Avalon." Merlin said as he sat down on a stone bench.

"I've read about it in books before, I didn't think they knew where it…"

"_They _might not, but I certainly do. It's believed to hold special powers, directly linked to fate of the country itself, bound by thousands of years of magic."

"So who is it then? " Arthur asked curiously.

"I suppose many people don't know for sure, but I believe it to be the greatest king that ever lived, who they say." Merlin paused, he could feel the tears in his eyes "they say when Albion needs him, he would rise again, the once and future king. His name was Arthur."

* * *

I'm so happy people have been saying they liked the first part! This chapter does feel a bit slow but it was necessary to explain why Arthur was back in the first place. :)


	3. Chapter 3

"...when Merlin  
Brought Arthur fourth, and set him in the hall,  
Proclaiming, "Here is Uther's heir, your king,"  
A hundred voices cried, "Away with him!  
No king of ours! A son of Gorlois is he,  
Or else the child of Anton, and no king,  
Or else baseborn," Yet Merlin through his craft,  
And while the people clamoured for a king,  
Had Arthur crowned..."

From Tennyson's _"Idylls of the King" _

* * *

Chapter 3

Arthur had spent a long time questioning him about the history of Camelot and, in particular, how the king had died. Merlin was happy but exhausted. He had tried his best to make it seem as though everything he knew was through books alone, but such details, like how the king had asked him to hold him as he died, or how Merlin the warlock had cried as he sailed the lifeless body across the lake, could not possibly have been recorded in history textbooks, did not evade the surprising astute Arthur. Merlin had tried his best to convince his study it was nothing more than his penchant for romanticizing the stories his new, along with his tendency to apply a little creative licence here and there. Somehow, Arthur did not seem convinced.

They had spent a couple of hours afterwards back in Merlin's kitchen, Arthur asking questions and taking notes, Merlin simply revering in being in Arthur's company once again after so many years of being alone.

"I should be off soon, it's getting a bit late" Arthur said, making Merlin jump. He nodded. Part of him wanted to tell Arthur he couldn't leave, that he must stay. He had not waited for over a millennium for his return just to have him go again. But Merlin knew that it would have done more harm than good. It would necessary to keep track of Arthur without making him suspicious, or worse, afraid. For whatever reason, he had been sent back to England, and he knew that he needed to find Merlin, even though he didn't know it yet.

"Of course, of course. I hope I've been of some help to you, Arthur."

"Yes, fantastic in fact. I didn't realise people were being serious when they told me how much you knew about this kind of thing. I guess you've done a lot of reading." Arthur replied, holding his hand out once more.

Merlin went to shake it, this time with the foresight to suppress his magic.

"Before you go" He started cautiously "I was wondering if you might want to exchange email addresses, that way if you think of anything else when you've gone, you can ask."

Arthur's face lit up. "Yeah, that would be great, actually." He ripped off two squares of paper from his notebook, scrawling his address on one of them, and handed the other to Merlin. He passed the scrap back.

He followed Arthur to the front door. "Till we meet again then, Merlin." Arthur said jokingly.

"Sooner than you think." Merlin mumbled under his breath, waving down the street until Arthur disappeared completely into the darkness.

Merlin closed the door and began to pace around the shop floor. What had brought Arthur back now, after all this time? He had seen over a hundred different wars where it could be said the safety of Albion had been compromised, when it was in danger and in need of a leader, so why now? He switched on the news, but there was no sign of anything unusual happening, there had to be something… Suddenly, Merlin knew what he must do. They never gave him any sort of message, did they? Always so unnecessarily cryptic. He pulled on his coat and locked up his shop. It would take him all night to get there; even throughout the years of technological advances and invention, there was nothing Merlin trusted more for travelling than his own two feet. Luckily, they were not that far away from the mount.

He arrived at the cave sometime as dawn was approaching and the birds in the woods through which he had walked all night began to sing. He entered this time without any hesitation, for he was far too old and weary to be fearful of the Disir now.

"You have returned, Emrys. We wonder what has taken you so long."

"I haven't really had any need to come, have I?"

"You sound hostile, Emrys, it almost feels like you blame us for what happened all those years ago, and yet you were here where also when king Arthur decided his destiny for himself."

"It was a long time ago. You know why I have come now. Arthur has returned. I need you to tell me why."

"You do not sound as happy as we expected, warlock, your friend has returned and yet you sound weary of the fact."

"A thousand years will do that to you, I guess" He replied. He had no real desire to be here, but he knew it was the only way he could find out why Arthur had come back.

"Arthur has returned, Emrys, because Albion needs him now, more than ever. His time to reign has come again."

"But Albion, England, has seen many wars and bloodshed. What is so different now? Why didn't he come back in 1914? What about 1939? And all the times before that?" It was something that Merlin has thought about all the way through the night. What could possibly be threatening the country now that meant it needed the leadership of a man like Arthur?

"Yes, Emrys, but this country chose to take part, in some cases in order to defend those in need, and in darker times, for no reason other than power and greed. It was felt that neither reason needed Arthur. It was foreseen that Albion could prosper, and it did."

"So now, it faces another kind of threat?"

"An inevitable one, as far as we can see; one that the country does not deserve and does not recover from. It will bring Albion to its knees."

Merlin felt slightly sick. If something could be worse than the things he had seen over the years, the bodies and blood and wounds too great for even his magic to heal on the battlefield in Europe, in America, in Africa, then it was something that he wanted no part in. Unfortunately, he knew that probably wouldn't be an option.

"So you've brought him back, I get that. But he doesn't know he is the future king of England, does he? Where did he come from? He has no memory of his former self, so what use is he to Albion now?" Merlin finished in exasperation.

"She decided it was time, Emrys, from the lake."

…

_Freya_.

"Oh." Merlin had no words for that.

"We trust her judgement. Times have changed, warlock, as you are all too aware, things are not as they once were. Battles are no longer fought with swords, but with words. He has been raised from his resting place, but some changes have been made. His memory has been altered, Emrys, to be more fitting to this century. Two Thousand and Twelve is no place for a king who can do little more than wield a sword and command an army. Power is not something associated with the royal family now, nor is courage or leadership."

This was something Merlin had to agree with. He would see the Royal family now on the television, draped in silk and covered in jewels, surrounded by security guards and shielded by palace gates. What use was that to the people of the country? They saw nothing but opulence and luxury whilst members of the public slept in doorways, hungry and cold. It was no way to rule a country.

"He mentioned politics. I suppose that is something you decided as well?"

"Yes, Emrys. Money and politics is how the world is run now, and so this is where Arthur is most needed. You must help him, warlock, to achieve this."

"Why Arthur? We already have a prime minister, what…"

One of three women held up her hand to silence Merlin. He stopped instantly.

"Men now, Emrys, do not possess a single good or honest thought. They are fuelled by greed and power only. They have no desire to serve their people, no need to help those less fortunate. Their only driving force is thought of more money."

Suddenly, everything seemed so clear to him. He despised politics and everything the people involved stood for. The steady decline from the golden age he once knew to the current era was positively soul destroying. The lives he had seen cut short in the name of another mans greed stayed with him always. Now he knew why Arthur was back. He possessed the selflessness and sense of duty that those in power lacked.

"Wars are fought with words now, warlock, not swords. You have all you need now, so we ask you to leave. Remember, Albion's time in near, and in that dark hour, you must be strong, for you alone can save her."

Merlin was sure of what he had to do now. And with that, he turned to leave.

* * *

**This is far as I've got, I'm working on the next chapter now. Thank you for reading this far! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

To the people that are still reading this, thank youu! Sorry it's been a while, had exams etc. to think about. I've written another few chapters. This one drags a bit because it just kind of links the story of Merlin knowing that he has to go and find Arthur (again).

* * *

Chapter 4.

On the long walk back to the mount, Merlin had no shortage of things to think about. Part of him was annoyed that the fates had decided that the future of the country was pretty much his responsibility again. He felt far too old and weary. The other part of him, however, longed for that familiar sense of adventure that he had once had so long ago.

He knew the most difficult part was going to scratching the surface of this new Arthur to try and uncover the old one. If he was essentially the same person, why did Merlin feel as though he was having to start all over again? He couldn't sleep, so instead decided to open the shop. Although he tried hard to focus, what the Disir had said played over in his mind for the rest of the day. Words not swords? He knew little of current politics; after all, he had seen the old ways evolve into the current corrupt system. He had no time for the leaders of today. They had no time for people, only for their own power. They hid behind promises in order to get elected, and yet nothing ever changed. He understood in part though; wars were not fought with the same sense of nobility or self sacrifice. In times of war, those in power did very little other than sit in paneled rooms and dictate orders whilst honourable men laid down their lives to protect an idea. an idea that Arthur had first instilled into the minds of people so long ago, and now he was almost forgotten, consigned to being a legend, an ideal that could only be held as something perfect yet unattainable, rather than something that could actually be achieved.

Merlin had been there, of course, throughout all of these wars. Never straying far from Albion, of course, in case the time came. Throughout every battle, he had stayed close to Avalon, just in case it had been Arthur's time to rise again. He had imagined it many times, of course he had. He had hoped that Arthur would be the same as when he had died, but he knew the Disir were right; this century was no place for a medieval king.

Plagued by his thoughts, Merlin cast a glance at the small television on the counter and it came on instantly. It never ceased to amaze him how versatile his magic was to the modern world. It was only by chance that it was on a news channel, or, as Merlin knew all to better than scorn, _fate_. The news presenter was stood in parliament square, microphone in hand. It was raining and she was talking about the upcoming by-elections. There was some uncertainty about electing a new leader for one of the parties. There were strained relationships with other countries due to the severe poor judgment of the current party in power. Merlin was only half listening; he had heard it all before.

"Of course, one of the ones we need to watch is the upcoming by-election in London West; all eyes will be on the -candidate, Arthur Pendragon. He seems to be quite popular with the people in his borough, it seems as though he will have a majority vote..." The woman's voice faded.

So this was it. It was finally time, and even after fifteen hundred years of waiting, Merlin didn't feel ready to start all over again. He knew the first thing to be done was somehow make his way to London. This was something that he was not looking forward to; he knew from past experience that he hated the place. He had spent some time there during the 19th century, and watched as the buildings grew a little taller and the streets a little more crowded each year. It became unbearable, and so he left for good. It seemed now, however, that he had no choice.

He closed the shop at once. He knew there was no time to waste, he needed to get to Arthur as soon as possible, The Disir had made that clear. He made his way upstairs and took from under his bed (a hiding place for no other reason than habit) the book that Gaius had given him all those years ago. It had undergone quite a few alterations and amendments, as well as some cosmetic touch ups, but it had been Merlin's once source of stability over the past century, the only thing that had remained the same throughout the many changes. He turned to the section on changing appearances. He knew that if he was to succeed in getting Arthur to trust him, he would have to look a little different that his current eighty year old bearded man outfit. Over time he had of course become true to legend of being the most powerful wizard there was, but he liked to keep it modest. This had, however, opened up a wealth of different versions of Glamour enchantments which he had accumulated over the years. One such charm was the reversal of the aging spell he had so often used to disguise himself as Dragoon (and Dolma) back in the days of Camelot. He could, essentially, make himself young again. It was something he was unsure about. He had spent so long (too long) being old now that he wasn't sure if he could even remember what it was like to be young. It was, however, going to be necessary if he was gain Arthur's trust. Hastily he threw some clothes into a bag, knowing full well he would have to buy more if he were to fit in. Satisfied he was done, he carefully laid the spell book on the top of the case. He was ready.

* * *

Yeah, so he's heading to London...


End file.
